


Angel Song

by Scribblesinink (Scribbler)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-12
Updated: 2007-09-12
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribbler/pseuds/Scribblesinink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't God who told Roy Le Grange to heal the young man with the big mouth and the bad heart on the second row.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angel Song

**Author's Note:**

> A somewhat odd little tale, but what's to be expected from a character who demands they tell you their story at 4 am? Unbetaed.

He slipped away while I wasn't watching.

Not that he planned to. I mean, Dean doesn't know I'm here so I can hardly 'xpect him to look out for me, now can I? Hell, I'm the one's supposed to look out for _him_. No, what happened was my own damned fault. I got distracted, just for a moment. Dean's frustrated outburst; the sight of his brother, so pale and still on that dirty mattress in that cold, damp hovel of a house… We all fail eventually; such is the nature of the beast and Sam wasn't even mine to watch over but still: it sucks when we lose.

And right then, while my attention was elsewhere, Dean snuck away. Next thing I know, the engine of the Impala roars to life and the car peels out of Cold Oak in a spray of mud, headed for God knows where.

Without me.

By the time I caught up, it was too late. The deal'd been made; sealed with a kiss, like the song says.

Nothing I could do 'bout it.

It wasn't always so hard. When they were little, John watched over those boys like a hawk. Kept them safe, you know, let no harm get close to them. But as boys do, they grew older, they grew bolder, and my job just got tougher.

The first time I nearly lost Dean was somewhere up north. Or perhaps it was in the Rustbelt, I don't know—all those shitty little towns look the same to me. But if I can't remember the where, I sure as hell remember the what. What it was, I wasn't fast enough… Shoulda dragged him from that puddle before he pulled the trigger and sent a hundred thousand volts through a fuckin' rawhead—and himself.

"Couple of weeks," the doc said. "Maybe a month."

End of story, right?

Except Sam found Roy Le Grange. And I got the chance to set things right.

The good reverend believed God was speaking to him, but you see, God's far too busy stopping the whole goddamned world from going to hell in a bucket; he can't be bothered with a mere hunter's fate. And yes, I know, He's doing a stellar job with _that_, ain't He? Mysterious ways, my ass.

So, it sure as hell wasn't _God_ who told Le Grange to pick out that young man with the big mouth and the bad heart on the second row as the winning candidate in his prayer-healing show.

Even as I did it, whispered the words in the reverend's ear, I knew the price it'd cost, the life it'd demand. And isn't it ironic that Dean's healing brought Sue Ann's downfall and the end to Roy's do-goodism? Yeah, thought so too. Gives the term 'poetic justice' a whole new meaning, don't it?

But then came the demon. Or perhaps I should say The Demon…? I was so fuckin' relieved to get Dean out of its claws and out of that shack more or less in one piece, I never saw the damned truck comin'.

"Realistic expectations," the doc said. Translation: no way, Jose. And how many back-from-the-brink miracles do _you_ think happen in an average lifetime? Yeah. So—

What? John's sacrifice, you ask? No, that wasn't me. That was one hundred percent pure John. Although, if I'd thought of it—I might have been tempted to try.

After all, protecting Dean, that's _my_ job. Let someone else watch out for John, right?

…

…

Anyway, it don't matter anymore. John's gone, Dean lived, and those boys kept on doin' what they do best.

Until South Dakota, where I fucked up again, and let Dean get away.

"One year," it said. "I give you one year."

Some guardian angel I am, huh?

Dean: _When I was a kid, what did you always tell me when you put me to bed?_  
—Mary: _I told you angels were watching over you._   
(What Is And What Should Never Be)

***


End file.
